Chapter Sixteen

Virginia stood dazed in the park as Lord Strangeways retreated from her, his kisses warm on her mouth. Still awed, she put her gloved fingers there.

“Oh, dear,” she said to the footman. “No one is ill, I hope?”

“I have no idea, miss. I think we should get you home before it rains again.”

She started walking toward Half Moon Street. What could Lord Wellingham have said in his note that would have caused Lord Strangeways to bolt away after kissing her with such fervor? How could his feelings have changed so fast?

Her thoughts occupied her the entire way back to Shipley House. “Thank you very much for your escort home,” she said to the footman.

“It was a pleasure to be of service.” He tipped his hat and left her as her front door opened.

“There you are!” said her aunt, coming down the stairs. “Where have you been, Virginia?”

“For a walk in the park,” she answered.

“Commander Saunders called for you. And a most unappealing person named Sagethorn.”

Puzzled by the commander’s visit and annoyed by Sagethorn’s, she asked, “Did either of them leave a message?”

“No. They both intend to call again later.”

Taking off her bonnet and gloves, Virginia said, “I shall be upstairs in my sitting room. I intend to finish the book for the duchess’s literary luncheon tomorrow.”

“I suppose I shall have to read the thing,” her aunt said. “What is it called?”

“Pride and Prejudice. I will lend you my copy. I am almost finished.”

It was impossible for her to concentrate on the search for Lydia Bennett, however, when Virginia had spent the morning being thoroughly kissed by a man she could never marry. Her thoughts kept straying to the magical time under the oak tree, and she could not deny the warmth she felt in her bosom.

Five years until she could be on her way back to America! How was she to exist thus in the same country near to a man with whom she suspected she was falling in love? What were his true feelings for her? Did he think he could change her mind about returning to America? Or was he just indulging in a flirtation?

That must be it. How could anything ever come of this thing between them when they were from different worlds entirely? The warmth she was feeling gave way to an ache. Closing her eyes, she curled up on the daybed and proceeded to remember every word of their conversation and every sensation arising from being so thoroughly kissed.

* * *

During luncheon the Honorable George held forth on all the news from his village, which he had received by letter that morning.

“Letitia Campbell has apparently run off with Will Summersby. At least, that is the speculation. Neither of them are anywhere to be found.”

“Oh, poor Captain Campbell,” said her aunt in tones that belied her words. “He set such a store by his wife.”

“The scandal has the village by the ears, as you can imagine. Summersby was to offer for Miss Granger, you know.”

“I blame Letitia entirely,” said Aunt Lydia firmly. “She should never have entertained feelings for him. She is a married woman!”

Virginia objected, “Could this Mr. Summersby not be to blame? Perhaps he made up his mind to seduce the poor woman.”

“Men are what they are,” declared her aunt. “It is up to women to be on their guard. It would be a good thing for you to remember that, Virginia.”

Everything in her rebelled at a philosophy where women and not men were accountable for their moral actions, but she knew there was no arguing with her aunt.

* * *

Virginia was surprised and pleased at the news that Lord Strangeways was below. Glancing in the mirror, she frantically pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to add to their color.

The moment she entered the blue sitting room she could tell at once that something was amiss with her caller. His posture was stiff, and the light she was used to seeing in his amber eyes was absent.

“Lord Strangeways, what is wrong?” she asked, stopping just inside the doorway.

“I came to warn you,” he said, then looked away at the painting of one of her ancestors that graced the wall above the mantel.

Her brows lowered in bewilderment. “About what?”

“Papers were stolen last night from Beau’s library. He thinks you to be at fault.”

Panic seized her, and she blushed deeply. Her hands began to shake, and she could do nothing but stare at the viscount.

“Do you understand me?” he asked. “These were important papers. State documents.”

“But I didn’t steal anything,” she protested, heart racing. “Why would he think I did?”

“You must tell me, Virginia. Who could have done this?”

Her thoughts raced. “I . . . I don’t know. That is, I’m not perfectly certain. I would hate to accuse anyone.”

“I don’t think you understand your position. You may be arrested at any moment.”

Suddenly she became angry. “And you? What do you think? Is this why you went tearing out of the park this morning?”

He did not answer. Instead he asked, “What about this Sagethorn? Could he be the villain?”

The difference in his temperament between now and this morning galled her. “Because I happen to be an American and Mr. Sagethorn is an American, you think it must be one of us?”

He walked to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked down into her face. “Come now, Virginia. Don’t be difficult. I would have put money on your not being involved in this, but now I am not so sure.”

She wrenched her shoulders free. “How could you kiss me as you did this morning and now entertain the idea that I am guilty of espionage? Furthermore, I did not give you leave to use my given name!”

Spinning on her heel, she left the room, grateful that he could not see the tears starting in her eyes. Hateful man! Hateful country!

Was Wellingham really to the point of arresting her? Virginia could not let that happen. But where could she go?

She would think of something. When she got to her room, she pulled down the valise that had accompanied her on the ship. Into it she put the few gowns that she had brought with her from America.

Her uncle! She would go to her uncle in Dorset. That kind man would protect her from these crazed accusations.

How could she travel there?

An idea jumped into her head as she finished packing her gowns. Perhaps the Honorable George could be useful for once. But they had to hurry.

She found her aunt’s nephew writing letters in her uncle’s library.

“Mr. Tisdale, I find I have an urgent need to go to my uncle at his estate in Dorset. Could we go in your curricle? Could you take me there?”

The man looked up from his letter. “The devil! Uh, excuse my language. What has happened?”

“Can you just trust me that I know my business? I must leave here and go to my uncle. I will pay you handsomely to take me.”

A gleam she did not altogether like showed in his eyes. “I should be honored,” he said. “Allow me to pack my valise.”

“Please hurry!” she begged. “I shall be awaiting you in the mews.”

Virginia walked through the baize door into the pantry, where Stevens stood polishing silver. Nodding to him, she stepped down into the scullery and then out the door to the back alley, where stood the Shipley House mews. There, she ordered the groom to hitch up Mr. Tisdale’s curricle and then waited, tapping her foot.

George was so fastidious! How long would he be?

Her anger at the viscount grew to fury. How could he think such a thing of her? When was she supposed to have taken the papers? She had been in full view of the other guests all evening!

Of course it had been Sagethorn who had done it. She could have at least hinted at that, but Lord Strangeways’s suspicions had so infuriated her that she would not think of accusing her fellow countryman.

Her uncle would know what to do. He would not allow her to be arrested.

At length, the Honorable George appeared. Without speaking she handed him her valise. He loaded his and hers into the curricle, helped her to board, and then climbed in next to her. Soon they were away.

* * *

It wasn’t until they had left London behind that Virginia thought to ask, “How long is it to Dorset?”

“It will take several days. It is a very long way,” said her aunt’s nephew.

“Did you tell Aunt where we were going?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, she knows,” he said.

There was something in his tone she did not like. Studying his profile, she realized he was looking quite smug. But then such an expression was not unusual for the Honorable George.

Virginia settled in for a long journey, watching as they passed through forests and small quaint towns. The land appeared ancient, conveying the fact that it had been lived on and cultivated for hundreds of years. Compared to this country, America seemed raw and new. Her grandfather had cleared and broken the land for their plantation only thirty years ago. If it had ever been settled previously, it would only have been by indigenous tribes of Indians who lived by hunting rather than cultivating the land.

It did not take long for thoughts that would not be repressed to surface.

Lord Strangeways. How could I have been so wrong about him?